


The Thunder Rolls

by morghost



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morghost/pseuds/morghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke loves rain but hates thunderstorms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thunder Rolls

Clarke loves rain. Despite all of the terrifying shit they’ve been hit with since landing, rain is one of the few things she absolutely loves about Earth. The gentle chorus of thousands of raindrops tapping leaves throughout the forest soothes all the stresses that have her on edge for days. She knows Lexa would frown. The Commander would tell her that rain weighs you down and muffles the footfalls of enemies. And Clarke agrees. But nonetheless, she loves it.

  
Today’s sky is different, though. It’s not the familiar light grey that promises a long day of a steady drizzle, there’s a deep purple bruise off to the west that casts a dark shadow across the horizon. The breeze is warm and heavy, almost suffocating. Clarke hates it.

  
The constant low rumble from the clouds, accentuated by the brief flashes of lightening, only makes it worse. Her nerves feel as though the static in the air has been soaked into her skin and she can’t escape it. She had been trying to keep herself busy all morning by helping Abby with the wounded, but kept handing her the wrong items and was finally asked to leave.

  
By midafternoon Clarke is agitated and short-tempered. She’s already snapped at Octavia without good reason, earning a glare and a defensive “What’s your problem?” from the girl before she shouldered past her to where Indra was waiting. Clarke feels bad about pissing her off. She’s been trying to mend their relationship but Octavia doesn’t forgive easily, especially when you leave her for dead. Clarke knows what her problem is but she has no way of fixing it.

  
She tries to ignore the storm as she approaches the Commander’s tent. They needed to discuss strategy and she would be surrounded by grounders who still didn’t respect her. She’ll probably be butting heads with the stubborn officers and she will need to have a clear mind if she hopes to win. She doesn’t look at the way the fabric of the tent billows in the wind as she walks through the opening.

  
Lexa is standing near her throne as another grounder helps her into her formal armor.

  
“Clarke, you’re early.” Lexa’s tone is less surprised, as if she’d been expecting her. Her attendant scowls at the unannounced interruption.

  
“I don’t always arrive late, Commander.” Clarke eyes the other grounder and Lexa notices. “I hoped we could discuss something privately before everyone else arrives.”

  
Lexa nods and dismisses her attendant. Clarke fidgets with the knife in her belt until the flaps of the tent close behind him, shutting out the wind once again, before walking over to Lexa.

  
Lexa waits but Clarke says nothing.

  
“What did you wish to discuss?” she gently prompts her.

  
Clarke opens her mouth to say she didn’t actually have anything to talk about, she just wanted to be alone with her, but she was cut off by another roll of thunder. She winces and reaches for the red cloak hanging near the throne instead.

  
“May I?” she asks. Lexa nods, and Clarke picks up the cloak. She can feel Lexa’s dark gaze on her, concerned and questioning, but doesn’t meet it as she moves behind her to pin the cloak to her shoulder. Lexa can sense something is wrong and Clarke knows it.

  
As she threads the cloak pin through the fabric of Lexa’s shirt, all of the seams in the tent are suddenly illuminated as a bright flash of lightening erupts. Clarke barely has time to register it before the crack of thunder resounds outside, causing her to flinch and stab the pin straight into Lexa’s shoulder.

  
Lexa gasps but doesn’t move.

  
“Clarke,” she says through clenched teeth.

  
“I’m sorry!” Clarke manages. “It startled me. There, it’s pinned.” She backs away a step as the rain begins to pound on the roof of the tent.

  
Lexa turns and wraps her fingers around Clarke’s wrist to keep her from backing further away.

  
“Is something wrong?” she asks. She uses her other hand to massage the spot where the pin stuck.

  
Clarke shakes her head but before she can say more, Lexa’s generals, officers, and other various important people start to file in, eager to get out of the relentless rain. Lexa drops Clarke’s hand and they position themselves next to each other. Clarke knows it looks as though everyone is now reporting to both of them, not just their commander, but she is pleased with the subtle display of power. It might be an advantage to begin the meeting at Lexa’s side.

  
But that’s the only advantage Clarke has for the meeting. The rain was not letting up and the thunder only gets louder. She tries to remain focused on every idea and plan but each flash of lightening breaks her concentration. Normally she wouldn’t take any bullying from the grounders, keeping eye contact and standing her ground, but she finds herself glancing away each time the wind blows the tent a little harder than before. Standing next to Lexa helps to distract her from the storm, but she can’t afford to look as though she relies entirely on the Commander, and is forced to move away from Lexa’s comfort to argue with an officer.

  
Tensions were high, but it’s not until a loud crack of thunder causes her to accidentally crush a handful of miniature trees on the model of Mount Weather that Lexa finally ends the meeting.

  
Clarke attempts to put the trees back in their places as both leaders wait until the tent is clear again before gravitating back towards each other.

  
“Clarke, tell me this time, what is wrong?” Lexa asks after the last grounder leaves. “You are not one to let my generals push you around so easily.”

  
“I hate thunderstorms.”

  
“They are noisy and inconvenient, but why are you afraid?”

  
Clarke scowls. “I’m not afraid, Lexa, I just hate them.”

  
Lexa simply waits for her to continue.

  
“I don’t like to show it, not because I think I’m weak,” she gives Lexa a pointed look but the other girl doesn’t respond. “Because I don’t want to give the others, my friends, any reason to panic. We didn’t have weather like this on the Ark, and if they saw me freaking out then they would too. Not that they even know it’s storming while they’re trapped in the mountain.”

  
Lexa studies her for a moment and another flash makes Clarke wince.

  
“Why does it cause such a reaction?”

  
Clarke breathes out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “Because. It…it makes me think something bad is happening. It sounds stupid, but, it’s a lot like gunshots or the loud mechanical breaks on the Ark. Except those problems I could fix. I can’t fix this.”

  
She leans down and cradles her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the lightening.

  
Lexa is there instantly, in her space. It’s a relief to Clarke, to have someone take control when she feels like she just can’t hold everything together for once. She leans into Lexa’s body and feels her arms around her.

  
“A storm is not something you need to fix, Clarke. This is not weakness.”

  
Clarke buries her face in the crook of her neck and Lexa holds her like that for who knows how long.

  
Eventually, Lexa whispers quietly for her to lie down and they move to the far end of the tent where Lexa’s bed sits. The rain continues to burst onto the roof but it was fortified for exactly this reason and nothing was leaking through, making the area dry and cozy. Lexa removes her shoulder plate, cloak, and remaining armor before kneeling on the pile of furs and reaching for Clarke to join her.

  
Clarke follows gladly, exhausted from the emotional stress of the storm, on top of her daily worries. She curls into Lexa, fitting their bodies together in a way that is familiar and comforting. She rubs her thumb gently over the spot on her shoulder where the pin stuck, and leans up to kiss it.

  
“Sorry, again,” she murmurs.

  
Lexa smiles and presses their lips together softly. “No more apologies. I won’t have you punished by law, this time.”

  
Clarke’s grin turns to a grimace when more thunder sounds overhead.

  
Lexa notices the change and draws her closer. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

  
Clarke sighs contentedly and allows herself to relax.

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I've written in months so I'm sorry if it's not that great! Find me on tumblr at galaxygrounder


End file.
